Nobody Part 123

CHAPTER XLVIII.

ANNOUNCEMENTS.

I have never described Mr. Dillwyn; and if I try to do it now, I am aware that words will give to n.o.body else the image of him. He was not a beauty, like Tom Caruthers; some people declared him not handsome at all, yet they were in a minority. Certainly his features were not according to cla.s.sical rule, and criticism might find something to say to every one of them; if I except the shape and air of the face and head, the set of the latter, and the rich hair; which, very dark in colour, ma.s.sed itself thick and high on the top of the head, and clung in close thick locks at the sides. The head sat n.o.bly upon the shoulders, and correspondent therewith was the frank and manly expression of the face. I think irregular features sometimes make a better whole than regular ones. Philip's eyes were not remarkable, unless for their honest and spirited outlook; his nose was neither Roman nor Grecian, and his mouth was rather large; however, it was somewhat concealed by the long soft moustache, which he wore after the fashion of some Continentals (_N. B_., _not_ like the French emperor), carefully dressed and with points turning up; and the mouth itself was both manly and pleasant. Altogether, the people who denied Mr. Dillwyn the praise of beauty, never questioned that he was very fine-looking.

His sister was excessively proud of him, and, naturally thought that nothing less than the best of everything--more especially of womankind--was good enough for him. She was thinking this now, as she came down the room, and looking jealously to see signs of what she dreaded, an entanglement that would preclude for ever his having the best. Do not let us judge her hardly. What sister is not critical of her brother's choice of a wife? If, indeed, she be willing that he should have a wife at all. Mrs. Burrage watched for signs, but saw nothing. Philip stood there, calmly smiling at her, not at all fl.u.s.tered by her appearance. Lois saw his coolness too, and envied it; feeling that as a man, and as a man of the world, he had greatly the advantage of her. She was nervous, and felt flushed. However, there is a power of will in some women which can do a great deal, and Lois was determined that Mr. Dillwyn should not be ashamed of her. By the time it was needful for her to rise she did rise, and faced her visitor with a very quiet and perfectly composed manner. Only, if anything, it was a trifle _too_ quiet; but her manner was other wise quite faultless.

"Philip!--" said Mrs. Burrage, advancing--"Good morning--Miss Lothrop.

Philip, what are you doing here?"

"I believe you asked me that question once on a former occasion. Then, I think, I had been making toast. Now, I have been telling Miss Lothrop my plans for the summer, since she was so good as to listen."

"Plans?" repeated Mrs. Burrage. "What plans?" She looked doubtfully from one to the other of the faces before her. "Does he tell you his plans, Miss Lothrop?"

"Won't you sit down, Mrs. Burrage?" said Lois. "I am always interested when anybody speaks of Switzerland."

"Switzerland!" cried the lady, sinking into a chair, and her eyes going to her brother again. "You are not talking of _Switzerland_ for next summer?"

"Where can one be better in summer?"

"But you have been there ever so many times!"

"By which I know how good it will be to go again."

"I thought you would spend the summer with me!"

"Where?" he asked, with a smile.

"Philip, I wish you would dress your hair like other people."

"It defies dressing, sister," he said, pa.s.sing his hand over the thick ma.s.s.

"No, no, I mean your moustache. When you smile, it gives you a demoniac expression, which drives me out of all patience. Miss Lothrop, would he not look a great deal better if he would cut off those Hungarian twists, and wear his upper lip like a Christian?"

This was a trial! Lois gave one glance at the moustache in question, a glance compounded of mingled horror and amus.e.m.e.nt, and flushed all over. Philip saw the glance and commanded his features only by a strong exertion of will, remaining, however, to all seeming as impa.s.sive as a judge.

"You don't think so?" said Mrs. Burrage. "Philip, why are you not at that picture sale this minute, with me?"

"Why are you not there, let me ask, this minute without me?"

"Because I wanted you to tell me if I should buy in that Murillo."

"I can tell you as well here as there. What do you want to buy it for?"

"What a question! Why, they say it is a genuine Murillo, and no doubt about it; and I have just one place on the wall in my second drawing-room, where something is wanting; there is one place not filled up, and it looks badly."

"And the Murillo is to fill up the vacant s.p.a.ce?"

"Yes. If you say it is worth it."

"Worth what?"

"The money. Five hundred. But I dare say they would take four, and perhaps three. It is a real Murillo, they say. Everybody says."

"Jessie, I think it would be extravagance."

"Extravagance! Five hundred dollars for a Murillo! Why, everybody says it is no price at all."

"Not for the Murillo; but for a wall panel, I think it is. What do you say, Miss Lothrop, to panelling a room at five hundred dollars the panel?"

"Miss Lothrop's experience in panels would hardly qualify her to answer you," Mrs. Burrage said, with a polite covert sneer.

"Miss Lothrop has experience in some other things," Philip returned immoveably. But the appeal put Lois in great embarra.s.sment.

"What is the picture?" she asked, as the best way out of it.

"It's a St. Sebastian," Mrs. Burrage answered shortly.

"Do you know the story?" asked Philip. "He was an officer in the household of the Roman emperor, Diocletian; a Christian; and discovered to be a Christian by his bold and faithful daring in the cause of truth. Diocletian ordered him to be bound to a tree and shot to death with arrows, and that the inscription over his head should state that there was no fault found in him but only that he was a Christian. This picture my sister wants to buy, shows him stripped and bound to the tree, and the executioner's work going on. Arrows are piercing him in various places; and the saint's face is raised to heaven with the look upon it of struggling pain and triumphing faith together. You can see that the struggle is sharp, and that only strength which is not his own enables him to hold out; but you see that he will hold out, and the martyr's palm of victory is even already waving before him."

Lois's eyes eagerly looked into those of the speaker while he went on; then they fell silently. Mrs. Burrage grew impatient.

"You tell it with a certain _gout_," she said. "It's a horrid story!"

"O, it's a beautiful story!" said Lois, suddenly looking up.

"If you like horrors," said the lady, shrugging her shoulders. "But I believe you are one of that kind yourself, are you not?"

"Liking horrors?" said Lois, in astonishment.

"No, no, of course! not that. But I mean, you are one of that saint's spiritual relations. Are you not? You would rather be shot than live easy?"

Philip bit his lip; but Lois answered with the most delicious simplicity,--

"If living easy implied living unfaithful, I hope I would rather be shot." Her eyes looked, as she spoke, straight and quietly into those of her visitor.

"And I hope I would," added Philip.

"_You?_" said his sister, turning sharp upon him. "Everybody knows you would!"

"But everybody does not know yet that I am a fellow-servant of that Sebastian of long ago; and that to me now, faithful and unfaithful mean the same that they meant to him. Not faithfulness to man, but faithfulness to G.o.d--or unfaithfulness."

"Philip!--"